


A rose exalted on the point of blackthorn

by adrift_me



Series: Corvo the Black AU [3]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Corvo the Black AU, Exhibitionism, M/M, Porn With Plot, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 20:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: "Blasphemy to a God which is before you. Your strictures are nothing but a waste of breath. You were allowed to continue, but no more. There will be no Abbey. No Overseers. There will only be the Outsider. And I."Corvo the Black and his god avert a political coup. But no coup, even a failed one, happens without consequences.The continuation of Corvo the Black AU longfic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _"Your empire is now like a tyranny: it may have been wrong to take it; it is certainly dangerous to let it go." - Pericles_  
>     
> Having more fun with my Corvo the Black AU which was born during Kinktober 2017. I have quite a few more stories in store for you all, so I hope you will stick around. Giving a warning for a lot of action, violence, some politics and, of course, some utterly delightful smut. Let me know what you think in the comments? I'd greatly appreciate it!
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

“Long Live the Black Emperor,” they laud him in the streets.

“Curse the blasphemer and his devil,” they whisper in their safe corners.

There are not many left these days, however, who wish to oppose their Emperor. As years go on, he proves and has proven multiple times his worthiness to rule over the vast and glorious Empire, brought to such a description by his own hands. And if those hands have to bleed and draw blood sometimes, it is always deemed necessary. Those who question often are the vessels from which that very blood is taken.

But now there is not one, but two Emperors with a crowning ring on a finger. Another man, his face known to many, but his nature terrifyingly obscure, the Outsider advices and rules alongside Corvo. He offers himself up to people as a reserved young man, a tranquility against the Black Emperor’s fervent nature, and yet so much more powerful and exuberant with his air and presence. One couldn’t exist without the other, and the people of the Empire have grown to see them as one.

The Outsider. It is not hard for them to believe that a god has descended to keep a leash on them, especially when they witness his black eyes and occasionally recognize him from their dreams. The Void seeps from his very fingers and enthralls the air itself. But a few still question. The Outsider minds them not, but Corvo’s hands tremble to force their heads to the ground and make them grit their teeth in worship.

He is a god still, but absence from the Void deprives him of wider vision, that which surpasses the bounds of reality, the confided limits of a person’s nature. He doesn’t mind, for his all-seeing eyes and careful hands can reach far enough to get the information he and Corvo require.

It’s the seventh day of the Month of Timber, dry and warm and making throats scratch with the salty winds, brought from the sea. The sky is curtained by a veil of clouds, something that is now normal for the Empire. Light is rare and somehow only peeking through on the outskirts, as if the god, the Void, meddle with the weather to not let people go hungry without healthy crops. Dunwall, however, remains a central of rains and darkness and its rule.

The Tower is pleasantly quiet today, only footsteps of patrolling guards can be heard in the halls. The two Emperors reside in their room, resting from the morning duties. The Outsider sits on the windowsill, one leg swinging and another propping a book he is reading. It’s a work on natural philosophy, a study of Pandyssian flora, or rather a prediction of it. The researchers came only half-way close to what it truly is, perhaps, too inspired by the fantasies of tropical islands and fairytales. 

His gaze keeps slipping to the side where Corvo is busy with polishing the sword, its sharp gleaming surface catching rare gray light from the outside. The Outsider smiles a little and tries to get back to reading, when Corvo speaks up.

“I am certain you have taken notice of that young squire who attended last evening’s meeting.”

“I have,” the Outsider agrees, flipping over the page of his book. 

“What are your thoughts?”

“His allegiance is clear - he will not oppose us. His motivations are kind - the workers love him. And his intentions are noble - to secure workplaces, to provide food and to establish a school for orphans for the refugee children, fleeing from the Tyvian conflict. A much better attitude than his late father had. Trying to rally up his workers against us and separating the farms was most foolish. And giving shelter to the Overseers, who were being investigated for last year’s arson, even more so.”

“May I add, that the fact that he exposed said Overseers was just as noble,” Corvo says as he checks the sword and finally folds it. “The bastards, not a single one, will escape our reach. They shall not bow, that much is clear, but their disgusting existence shall not continue either.”

The Outsider’s lips twitch in a small smile.

“He will be a fine addition to the court, as will his wife,” the Outsider sayss, looking up from his book briefly, gaze brushing over Corvo’s hunching figure. He returns to paintings of fungi and flowers, crowded on the page, but now his focus on the book is close to nonexistent. Instead, it flicks back to the sweet night spent with Corvo after that meeting, to the lips that explored the familiar curves of his body and to the warm exciting feeling that flooded him from within. Every night with Corvo he cherishes, be it passionate love making or just sleeping next to each other.

The Outsider puts the book away and approaches Corvo. It seems he will never run out of affection for his Emperor. With a gentle hand he catches Corvo’s chin and turns his face to look at him.

Corvo smiles, dark eyes looking up from heavy eyebrows.

“What is it, dear?”

The Outsider says nothing, merely looks at him with admiration. Corvo’s presence soothes him, anchors him to reality whenever he feels like slipping into the Void, a feeling that comes rarely. It is usually a branch of blackthorn that weaves around a rose, but it is different this time. He is the dark rose that found a way to live in a tight embrace with blackthorn. He cuts his petals on Corvo’s sharpness, and he loves it with every fibre of his being. They are an odd tandem, but one which strengthens one another.

Kneeling on the bed, the Outsider leans to kiss Corvo, capturing his lips gently. With great ardor Corvo wraps his arms around his love, pulling him in his lap. They kiss briefly and pull away to look at each other, bathing in love. And kiss again, slowly and gently. They are each other’s comfort, support and kissing is just one of many ways of expressing that.

But not a minute passes more when there is a secret knock on the door. Reserved for the members of their underground spy network, it means an emergency, because no report meeting has been scheduled for that time. Pulling away from each other unwillingly, Corvo says “come in” loudly, a young man enters. The Outsider spares him a look. The man seems unsettled, his hood fallen back. His name is Avan, a man the Outsider and Corvo accepted in the spy network but a few months ago. Sharp, quick, devoted, a real find for such a line of work, proven by years of service in the Tower Guard.

Avan turns, closes the door and then falls to his knees for a bow. Corvo is still holding the Outsider in his arms and turns for a moment to kiss him more. Something the Imperial charges are slowly getting used to, the boundless exhibitionism of their two rulers.

“My Lords Emperors, there is a matter of urgency, demanding your attention,” he speaks up, his head still hung low. Corvo hums inquisitively, still smiling at the Outsider and rubbing against his nose gently, pecking his lips more. The Outsider captures his lips in a proper kiss, even as Avan speaks. “Your Imperial Majesty, you are needed immediately.”

“Rise,” Corvo finally pulls away from his lover and looks at Avan, waving at him in an order to stand up. He looks perturbed. “And explain.”

The Outsider slides off the Emperor’s lap and on the bed. The man before them quivers but follows the order.

“There have been sightings of the Overseers down at the Holger Square. We tracked a group of them down to the sewers, it appears they are heading for the High Overseer’s office. The purpose I could not guess, but my Lords, they are armed.”

With every word Corvo’s face tenses, hardens, brows creasing with a frown. The Outsider watches him from the side, notes every twitch of the muscles, the heaviness of thoughtful eyes. He looks frustrated and exhausted, and the demigod understands why. The Overseers have been trying too hard for a long time now to at least unsettle their authoritarian rule, falling to the roughest, boldest measures, as their doctrines have advised. However, those actions never led to safety, let alone to any success.

“Thank you. I will deal with this immediately. Order a dispatch of men to the Holger Square, they must move swiftly and quietly as a back-up support,” he says sternly, watching the man bow and hurry off. Corvo turns to the Outsider and gives him a serious look, placing a large hand over his cheek. “They can try all they wish, the deeds of the unfaithful shall not meet any success. Stay in the Tower. Shall anything happen, you know what to do.”

“I shall hope my actions will not be necessary,” he turns his face to kiss Corvo’s palm and receives a brief kiss on lips in return. Corvo leaves with his brows furrowed, his marked hand clenching and unclenching with a glow of power. The Outsider watches him, worried even as he knows that Corvo will destroy the men who have been corrupting the peace for all too long.

Time drips as the Outsider is waiting for a word from the Holger square. But there is not a sound, not a word. Less than half an hour passes and the Outsider knows - whatever the Overseers were trying to do may have come to fruition. Feverish minutes have passed and every single one of them the demigod was trying to figure out all the wrong pieces in the vast puzzle of their order. It occurs to him that the young man, the messenger, could by no means be a correct figure to send to them. Only the most trusted men have the privilege to as much as access their level in the Tower. Separating the Emperors, both of them depending on each other’s powers, has to have been another move to undermine their regime. 

The Outsider paces the room, faster and faster, his breathing anxious. He has to move out, find Corvo, slay whoever crosses his path. He checks the small dagger on his belt, perhaps, an unnecessary tool for someone who commands the powers of the Void, but a useful piece of sharp steel nonetheless. A person still fears the touch of a blade that can cut through veins and arteries just fine. Or, at the very least, threaten.

Before the Outsider can walk out, before he reaches the doors, the ground trembles under his feet, the force of it making him stagger and stop.

Explosion. It has to be, the magnitude of it tremendous and shaking, but distant. He feels it less through the floor and more through his perception of the world, the Void boiling and moving inside him as he is its eternal vessel. Too many terrifying coincidences cannot be a coincidence itself, he ponders, and, swallowing his fear, hurries into the hall, only to find it swimming in blood, bodies being mere rocks to break the streams of it. It’s a quick and efficient but messy job, and judging by the screams somewhere ahead, the assassin is still busy. Priorities shift and change with every second, but Corvo’s wellbeing and life remain unmoved, and the Outsider hastens.

“Watch the devil walk! Get him!” men scream when he turns around the corner. They run towards him with their sword atilt, but before either can deal damage, the Outsider Blinks behind them. One receives a lethal kiss of the blade in a lively neck, another falls to the ground from a behind kick, then gets his head cracked on the floor. The Outsider ignores the fact that he knows their faces, their traitorous lying faces that honeyed their way into higher ranks of trusted allies. Could he and Corvo be so blind?

Immediate throat cutting is crude by the Outsider’s standards. Though he deems it necessary, enjoys the taste of blood as something that has trailed him all his life, the  _ final _ decision of a sword is so much more enjoyable when he and Corvo get to play with the chosen target. It seems they’ve been outplayed.

He makes his way into the other hall, but retreats upon seeing a group of violent rebels, shouting for the downfall of the Emperors, and still faithful guards, pressing back. He uses secret pathways, built into the Tower’s carcass, and finally turns up on the other side of the building. It’s more quiet here, but the halls and the rooms still bear the marks of fighting. Blood splotches on the walls, trails of blood on the floor, hoarse breathing of the dying.

A sudden clasp of a hand over his mouth and more hands on his arms are trying to restrain him, make him breathless. He struggles against his captors, twisting their arms at an odd angle and breaking free from the hold. His teeth bite into fingers on his mouth and the hand is removed with a gasp. As the Outsider turns around, dodging from a blow to his face, he sees a woman in a guard’s uniform and two men before him. Each and every one of them seems hostile, their faces determined and angry. Moles, traitors!

He kicks the woman in the stomach and she bends down, but this costs him a precious second and some of his vigilance, as another man finally lands a fist on his face. Teeth bleed his tongue as it is caught between them and a painful bruise already forms on his temple.

“You won’t leave the Tower,” the woman snarls, getting up from the floor. The Outsider sees a dagger in her hand, two other men are armed with pistols. The fight has grown dangerous. With a yell the woman plunges on him, dagger almost sinking in his side, but he Blinks behind her and twists her hand. With a yell she bends and drops her dagger, which the Outsider picks up and uses to slay her throat. With a gurgling sound the woman falls to the floor.

Armed with two daggers now, the Outsider Blinks again to confuse the captors. They can see him perching on the low ceiling lamp, and they fire the pistols at him. Both bullets hit the lamp, making it swing a little and breaking the stained image. Glass pieces fly in all directions, and the Outsider groans when a shard cuts the fabric of his trousers and hits his thigh. It’s a mere graze, nothing terrible, thanks to the sturdy leather, but hurts nonetheless.

The men fire another round of bullets which break more of the glass. It is then that the Outsider jumps off the lamp and sinks a blade in the neck of one of the rebel. The other, in the meantime, lands on the Outsider and his companion, and engages fists and arms, trying to choke the Emperor.

“Struggling is in vain,” he says when the Outsider presses a whole palm on his face, trying to fight him off. “The Tower will soon cease to exist. And you will perish with it.”

Catching the right moment the Outsider plunges a dagger in the man’s side and twists it, cutting through skin and guts. The man yells and finally the Outsider gets a chance to push his body off himself. The rebel groans and holds onto the wound as he falls to the floor, bleeding heavily and sobbing. The Outsider stands up and touches his own wounded face, nursing painful bruises, scattered all over. His head aches a little from the initial blow and there is blood in his mouth. When his eyes stop sparkling with blinding stars, he looks down at one of his attackers who is still breathing, hoarsely and rapidly. The Outsider studies him. He knows a face of every single member of the Tower, and this man is unknown to him.

The Outsider is still holding the dagger, covered with blood and intestines, and he leans down to grab at the rebel’s fronts and to press the blade to his throat, a gesture meant to terrify and not to wound more yet. Besides, for such violence he’d rather employ other tricks, that which are only a rumour in the Empire, a rumour of the god’s abilities.

“What is the meaning of all this?” he asks calmly, but verging on the edge of bursting. His voice is akin to the sea that prepares for the storm. Still, steady, but will soon turn to a worry of power.

The man writhes in his grasp, tries to pull back, muttering something incoherent. The Outsider leans in closer and feels the Void gather around him. It’s uncalled for, it happens as it does to any force of nature. And a force of nature he is. The world tints itself with brown and black and white and colours incomprehensible to a human being. He knows he is the avatar of the Void, suddenly feeling so much. The greatest leviathan, and his wrath is terrifying.

The man in his hold whimpers, tries to break out more, digging fingers in the Outsider’s front and pushing him away.

“Devil! It is  _ you _ that we have come to fight, you and the Emperor. You are tyrants, and must fall. I don’t care about the strictures or the Overseers, they can burn for all I know. No better than you… Everything is going as it should be,” he says weakly. The Outsider shakes his head.

“What are you talking about, what did you do?”

The man says nothing, continues struggling even as new streams of blood start seeping through the fabric on his side. The Outsider presses his hand against the wound and squeezes it with fingers, making the man cry out.

“What did you do?” he repeats, his voice calm still. The man goes limp in his hold, his face pale. Even weakening from the blood loss and pain, tears trickling from his eyes, he smiles.

“That explosion you heard, eh? It means the Office has gone down as planned. And your Emperor is buried beneath it,” he crocks blood. “You won’t get out of here alive either, the Tower is rigged to the core. We have so many people taken from your ranks, so many traitors of your regime but devoted to the people. The people who will thank us for this.”

His muscles twitch and relax, his head falling to the side. The Outsider is still holding him, and his fingers dig harder and deeper into the wound, feeling the cracked ribs and torn skin. The world goes mad in a whirlwind of the Void’s rage, and he doesn’t even care to try and stop it. Winds of time current around him and the whale song vibrates through his heart. Power blinds him as it always has, he realises, but it also guides him.

The man said the Tower is all set up for another explosion. How much time does he even have to prevent it from happening? The Outsider hurries to scan the halls for people who are still loyal to the Emperors, but finds only corpses of friends and foes alike. After Blinking across a few halls, he comes across a violent fight, a guard against another one, traitors and the faithful. He helps them discharge of the rebels, feeding off the Void and sending a powerful Windblast against the attackers. They scatter off confused, hitting the walls and falling to the guards’ sword and bullets. When the hall is clear of any rebel alive, the Outsider turns to the remaining people. They stare at him for a moment, gazing in his eyes enthralled, which must have turned black, and then bow. Not one dares to speak out before their Emperor does.

“It is imperative you search the Tower for any sign of explosives. Split in two groups. One shall check all the underground facilities, the guard barracks, all the security rooms. There have been moles in your ranks and every one must be eradicated. The Tower is in danger and so is your life.”

He breathes in.

“Another group is to examine the Tower’s weakest inner points, the structure. There will be explosives as well. Go. Serve the Empire and the people. We must not tolerate such terrorism, and it is our duty to prevent as many needless deaths as we can.”

“We serve  _ you _ , Emperor,” they reply with a bow, and a small smile touches his lips. Such admirable loyalty, understanding. He and Corvo want only good for the people of their country. What the rebels intend to do, this coup, is by no means a solution to the necessary tyranny the Emperors have established. If anything, it’s the first and major stone thrown towards the unrest.

Guard men and women hurry off on the god’s orders, while the god himself remains. He exhales shakily and feels the Void diminish its hold on him, making him see clear again, making his blood burn less.

Blinking across the hall and out of the Tower, he hurries to the Holger Square.

People in the streets are muttering about the accident, many are asking where the Emperors are, others wonder where their family members are and if they are safe. Some are already riling up mobs, hurrying to the square, their mouths foaming with spit and anger for the regime, happy for a chance of rebellion. The Outsider hears all of their whispers, from the whole of Dunwall, pouring in his ears like water. He shakes his head and Blinks further and further, as much as energy allows him. His whole being is burning with terror and running on adrenaline of it. He prays to the Void that Corvo is safe. Someone like his Emperor would not go down under the ruins of a building.

The closer he gets to the High Overseer’s office, the thicker the crowd grows. But it seems no one is going onto the square itself. As the Outsider runs past another set of roofs, he stops in his tracks immediately next to the square, fingers gripping on the corner of a wall and terrified ragged sighs escaping his mouth.

The square, the office are gone. Flattened to the ground, only ruins rising up in a vast pile, dust and stone, metal and dirt. Uneven hills of what used to be an enormous building, now laid to rest as a ghost of the past. The Outsider looks at it and his heart clenches and the Void wails - could Corvo survive the fall so grand in its scale? So dangerous and so deadly?

He sees people up in the ruins, they seem to be in quarrel. He Blinks down the roof and finally onto the square, empty of people, save for a few.

“You have defiled the most sacred place in the city!” yells one of the men. He is old and dressed in the Overseer attire. His hand holds a pistol drawn and aimed at another man, who is rolling eyes. The Outsider recognizes him as Avan. Immediately the god’s mind flares up in anger and subsides as he tries to steady himself into calmness and caution, carefully climbing behind a rubble pile.

“Leave it, Plitz,” Avan says in annoyance. His hands are steady on a sword. “Your Office here means nothing, it had to go and take the Emperor with it. Everything worked out, didn’t it?”

“You undermined our alliance, you destroyed the home of my people. We needed this office as a strategic and sacred point!”

The Outsider watches from the rubble, sees Avan rolls eyes. Carefully, he steps up the broken stones and waits.

“You are just another side of the same coin. Trying to impose your laws on the people, forcing them down on their knees and for what! What purity is there in your Strictures? Have you followed them, has any of your men lived by them?”

“We follow the sacred law, created to defy the black-eyed devil.”

“One which stands behind you?” the man sneers, his gaze falling on the Outsider. The god is walking swiftly towards them now, calm rage making the world swirl, twist and change all around him, reality bending to his fury. It is surprising, how much more humane his godly being has become. When he was the Outsider purely, his world being only the Void, neutrality guided his choices and painted his existence. Now, aware of a wider spectrum of emotions and feelings, they replace that neutrality. Is he becoming the black-eyed devil they have always feared him to be?

“Are you pleased now, that my sacred temple that fought against your tyranny, lies in ruins, yet you still live?”

“How  _ do _ you still live?” Avan inquires, pushing a sword forward threateningly. “Did my men fail--”

But before he can make a step forward, before the Outsider can counterattack, a sharp sword’s end pierces through the rebel’s chest, blood dripping and making his eyes widen. Corvo’s figure is looming over him, turning his head to whisper in his ear.

“Because you cannot kill a god.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some smut, some worship, some blasphemy, some violence... A proper mix for Corvo the Black AU. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading :)
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

The sword is drawn back and the rebel falls breathless to the ground, face hitting sharp stones and cutting it into mess. The Outsider looks at him for a moment before rushing towards Corvo, whose jacket is missing and whose marked hand is bleeding from Bloodthirst. His face is smudged with dust and dirt and blood, so are his arms where the shirt sleeves are torn.

“Corvo…”

But Corvo looks to the side and suddenly his arms grip on the Outsider and push him to the ground with an alarmed shout. A shot follows, deafening and hot in the air, then gasps and cries from the crowd. A bullet hits a pile of rubble instead, leaving scorch marks and burning down the dust. The Outsider looks up to see a gun drawn by the old Overseer. Corvo climbs off his lover and turns to the Overseer who shrinks under the Emperor’s gaze. His hand falters and just at that moment Corvo hits his arm, sending the pistol flying off to the side, and twisting bones in angles that they shouldn’t be in. The Overseer wails from pain as Corvo picks him up and holds high in the air by the fronts.

“You have my word that while I live and breathe, I shall destroy your pathetic heretical order till no man faithful to the Strictures remains. I will expose your lies and bring down the tyranny of false beliefs.”

The Outsider scrambles on his feet, watching Corvo throw the man to the ground on his back. A dispatch of soldiers hurries to the square and Corvo turns to them.

“Hold this man, hunt down every other rebel and Overseer remaining and bring them here. I shall deal with them personally.”

The soldiers bow, two of them moving to hold Plitz by the arms, others moving swiftly down the ruins in search of the rebels. People step aside, some try to fight but are pushed back by the guardsmen. Corvo turns around and finally falls in the Outsider’s embrace. Their arms are tight around each other, making air dissipate from their lungs.

“I thought you died,” the Outsider mutters in Corvo’s shoulder, his voice shaking. The Emperor pulls away and takes a gentle hold of his face. Careful fingers inspect bruises, while the Outsider’s inquisitive eyes search Corvo’s appearance for the same. There are many cuts along his temple and jaw, a spot on his forehead is bleeding heavily and his hair is all covered with the stone dust. But otherwise he looks well and safe. The Outsider presses forward and kisses Corvo open-mouthed and tender and terrified.

“How did you escape?” he barely manages to mouth at him, pulling away for a moment before licking over his lips more. A response to that are Corvo’s arms pressing tighter around him and his lips pushing harder, their mouths crushing together. The Outsider runs his hand through dusted hair, feels dirt, blood and crumbs of stone stuck in locks. But with Corvo so near him, alive and bruised only on the surface, it means a whole world to him. And he too feels alive.

“I realised something was wrong as I followed Avan to the square. He was urgent, cautious, very eager to have me tagging behind… It was odd. And then I noticed the Overseer’s music boxes in the street, hidden but not well enough. They must have wanted to deprive me of my power, granted by your gentle hand.”

Corvo takes the Outsider’s hand and kisses it sloppily, every finger, every knuckle. The god smiles at him, relieved.

“I went with Avan regardless, because I wanted to know who plotted against us. As soon as the rebels saw me, they turned the music boxes on and fought me into the square. Terrorists… They set their explosives to go out. I had one chance to run for it, and I took that chance. I guess all that roof climbing back in the day and every now and then was useful. Falling stones still got me, but I managed to get away.”

With every Corvo’s word the Outsider’s breathing hitches and muscles weaken. To think that his lover was so close to death is making him hurt. He reaches up to hold Corvo’s face and kisses him senseless for the longest moments, all but crying from terror and relief.

“I could lose you…”

“And I you,” Corvo mutters in his mouth, wiping a small trace of blood off the Outsider’s cheek and then cupping his hands tight on the Outsider’s wrists, so tight that it nearly hurts. But he takes it, because it means they both are alive.

They can still hear unrest in the crowd, crying and relieved laughing, cheerful shouts of “long live the Emperors” as well as angered “curse you”. The Emperors will deal with the people, held back by a chain of guardsmen surrounding the destroyed square. There is also still a sound of fight far off, gunshots and swords clashing, the last of the rebels falling to the imperial men’s mercy.

The Outsider, whose mouth tingles from the ardent kissing, pulls away and looks at Corvo, who smiles gently, hands pressing over the shoulder blades on the Outsider’s back.

“You and I shall restore prosperity and peace these men tried to undermine. They will be made an example of, undoubtedly. Blinded by their own ambitions, hungry for power they have no claim for, having no knowledge of the world they tried to seize… They couldn’t even establish a proper alliance between themselves, and thus two fractions that tried to stand against us, turned on each other. And  _ we _ are victorious,” he says and leans in again to kiss the Outsider, who replies tenderly.

The ruins of the High Overseer’s office look like a wound on Dunwall’s surface. Ground cracked, walls and floors collapsed into heaps of dust and stone, all of it covering the square, formerly known as the Holger one. A place which the Overseers intended to resurrect with their prayers.

And where did all that praying get them? A god shall tell.

How ironic it is indeed that the Overseers’ plans were overcome with ones of the rebels’, whose thorough and bold actions led to such immense destruction. One has to give them credit for at least trying to minimize the victims to one of the Emperor himself.

While the Outsider inspects the area, he notes the rebels’ intention to keep the explosion safer, making the building collapse into itself and leave most of the outer structures in tact. There are signs and echoes of destruction everywhere, walls of neighbouring houses painted with dust, windows broken, a few wrought balconies hanging askew. He hopes no citizen has been harmed, unless the citizen was here down with the rebels, plotting and putting that plot in motion.

The soldiers are still finding the rebels’ and Overseers’ bodies. Some are lined on the ground, blood tracks smeared all over the stones, peeking through stone crumbs. The Overseers’ golden linings down their coats look dim and dull against the mess.

Dust clings to the Outsider’s soles as he walks around with a dagger in his hand. He feels oddly ascended as his steps follow a trace through the place that once defied his existence. And now it is no more.

Corvo stands to the side, measuring the space where the High Overseer’s office used to stand. The ruins serve as a heightened ground, and people can be seen, crowding the streets in worry and anticipation, looking up and pointing at Corvo, his figure looming menacingly over the city. Some more soldiers approach with the bodies, dead or living and gazing at the Emperor with hatred. Oh how dark and burning their eyes are. Corvo looks at them heavily and instead turns his attention to one of the guards.

"Bring this self-established High Overseer Plitz to me. See to it that he remains unharmed," Corvo orders, and the guard woman hurries to oblige right away. The Outsider looks around the rubble, the remnants of the sacred place that was, perhaps, the least pure of them all. There are book pages scattered, pieces of brass and wood, metal carcasses like ugly iron skeletons poking sharply through the stone.

While they wait, the Outsider finds a place to sit down, a small deepening in the rubble, which, after he removes a few pieces, looks almost like a seat. He spreads his coat over it and sits down.

Stones press into his body even through the fabric, though softened, the pain barely noticeable. There are a few columns poking through the rubble, those that served as a gateway to the Office building. One of them is broken in parts and the smooth side of it is propping the stones like an armrest where the Outsider sits. There is another column, nearly untouched, being another armrest. The god’s hands lie atop of them relaxed, and he drums his fingers thoughtfully, slowly.

His gaze follows Corvo who walks around and finds a corner of a brass sign. He pulls at it, freeing it from the stones.

" _ The boldest measures are the safest _ , " he reads it out loud. And smirks. "On that we can agree."

He throws the sign aside with loud clatter, making the rebels and overseers flinch. Rummaging some more for the items that catch his attention, he finds another something at his feet to examine, a piece of a golden Structure plate, words inscribed into it many years ago, now meaningless. Corvo throws the sign to the captured rebels' feet and spits on it.

"Blasphemy to a God which is before you. Your strictures are nothing but a waste of breath. You were allowed to continue, but no more. There will be no Abbey. No Overseers. There will only be the Outsider. And I."

As much has been clear the moment the Abbey fell to its demise upon the first clash of power with Corvo, but somehow even these words echo with importance of something new being born. Those who heard is down in the street are shouting in agreement. Mostly. People cannot see it, they can only predict, but Corvo, and even more so - the Outsider, know that every last Overseer will burn. 

The Outsider watches Corvo and the captives lazily, his arms spread over the invented seat. He needs no worship from these men, but it is blind obedience and control that Corvo commands that excite him.

The Emperor approaches him with a heavy step and leans to put both arms on the columns next to the Outsider. His face is so close and his gaze is earnest. The deity places both hands over Corvo’s mildly bruised face and pulls even closer, their noses brushing and lips touching for a second. Standing on top of the world, with air burning with anticipation from how people are watching them, the Outsider and Corvo feel almost entirely powerful. Overwhelmingly so. They have never been bothered when people looked at them exchanging affections before, but now it’s a thought so enticing, so appealing. As Emperors, they drew attention. As… something else entirely, a god on a throne and a man  _ like _ a god before him, they demand that attention by their sole existence.

"I will bring the world down to their knees for you," Corvo says, kneeling himself. There is a small patch of even space, a cobblestone plate, and Corvo’s knee lands on it. The Outsider looks down at him, aware of the world around them crowded down in the streets, of the rebels captured and watching not too far away. He focuses on Corvo’s face again, and finds worship, love there. He reaches out delicately and caresses his lover’s cheek, fingers brushing along the stubbly and bloodied jaw. Corvo’s lips catch his finger and mouth at it tenderly. His lips are dry and hot, his teeth are playful as they enclose over the soft finger pad and nip on it. The Outsider feels amused when his whole phalanx disappears in Corvo’s mouth, sucked on and licked. It pleases him to watch, it pleases him that they are being watched.

It mesmerizes the Outsider how Corvo manages to find a new way of worshipping him every day. Be it a kiss to his hand or a night of passion, filled with gentle careful touches, it never fails to make the god shiver and desire. A pleasure as simple as sex becomes, thanks to Corvo, as close to worship as when people simply kneeled to pray by the Outsider’s shrines.

Corvo releases his thumb and pushes himself up to get closer. His lips, pulled in a smile, kiss the deity’s neck, all the while he is leaning on the rubble and the column for support. One hand reaches out to move away the collar, to pull the fronts to the side a little and make way for his lips to explore and caress. The Outsider has a picture entirely different from his perspective, Corvo’s face so close and the crowds so distant. His skin tingles and his insides warm up with want. Why is it so exciting to be worshipped out in the open view?

He hums his pleasant approval, tilting his head to touch Corvo’s face, his hair brushing over his face.

Settled all over him, sharp stones digging in the fabric of his clothing, Corvo strips himself an access to the Outsider’s body. It is no big task as clasps come undone under Corvo’s fingers that know their way skillfully and swiftly. It is so very similar to how their nights begin, and he does begin to wonder if they should go through with it. After all, they have just gone through a failed assassination, through a failed coup. There are still people being dragged into the row of living rebels, whose eyes are looking away in terror and embarrassment from the Emperors up on the imagined throne. The Outsider frowns.

“Corvo, we are in the middle of the Overseers’ office ruins, surrounded by death and destruction.”

Corvo, having received his glimpse of the Outsider’s chest, kisses his skin, lips drawing a small trail down, and the Outsider shivers, any other words lost to his sharp tongue.

“They say in the darkest time we all turn to a god, praying and begging for forgiveness. I have never turned away from a god, however, and do not intend to now. All I want, my dear, is for you to know that this world now lays before your feet. And the people who rose against us today are nothing but a blasphemous folk. I shall worship you in all the ways I know, and let them watch if they please.”

“Make them watch.”

It comes out as a shaking, desperate, lustful order. Power, love, addiction to it makes the god feel dizzy and overpowered. 

Corvo looks with a sly smile, pushes himself closer to the Outsider, his weight pressing the god down into the stone of the ruins. It hurts just a little, and the Outsider shifts with Corvo over him to find a better position where a stone is flat and cold under his coat. Corvo leans forward, and the Outsider meets his mouth hotly, opening right away, allowing his Emperor access to the burning lustful tongue and relentless lips. They kiss and savour and crush mouths, leaving each other panting. Corvo’s fingers push in the Outsider’s sides and in a whirlwind of growing passion he rips the rest of the shirt’s lower buttons, hems open, revealing the Outsider’s abdomen. This is where attention is craved for, and the Outsider lets out a strangled moan when Corvo’s mouth lavishes him. He almost laughs from the intensity of such passionate caress. Corvo seems to be uncertain where he wants to please his lover most. Moves his attention to the god’s neck, and the Outsider turns his head to let Corvo kiss him there. Counting every vein, licking at every curve, sucking on the most sensitive patches of skin, Corvo makes the Outsider feel worshipped to the largest extent.

There are so many people down below in the streets of Dunwall, all gathered by the square. And oh by the Void, do they watch, they do. Eyes transfixed on the Emperor whose mouth is busy with the god’s neck. They want to understand what exactly is happening. Someone already grasps the idea and either looks away or looks more intently. Some mutter to each other, point fingers. Someone even kisses their partner, as if following the example, and the Outsider has the most confused feelings about it. His chest burns. The deity watches the people, and Corvo turns attention back to himself again; his kisses and bites on the skin echo with a burning sting in the god’s abdomen, filling with pleasure. He rolls his eyes a little and smiles, almost devilishly, runs a possessive hand over Corvo’s nape and tugs and his hair.

Corvo’s lips won’t let go of him, pulling at all the strings that are strained within his body, waiting to be relaxed, but that is not yet to be. He hums, moans softly, his voice vibrating through his throat and into Corvo’s mouth.

“If you were to turn around, you’d see the faithful watching. But I do not wish you to turn around, Corvo.”

“And I do not wish to stop,” he says before moving his lustful caress further down again.

Every few words is a kiss, every draw of breath is a careful climb towards the feeling of pleasant ache that spreads inside the god’s body. Unquestionable, and the Outsider does not wish to question either, such is the Emperor’s worship to his godly Emperor.

Both of them satisfied, unaware of the world for a few moments any more, the Outsider succumbs to tender kisses that Corvo scatters over his skin. It is only a small patch visible in a straight strip that is open through the Outsider’s shirt pushed apart, up from his thin neck and down to where small black hairs peek through as Corvo’s fingers dig and curl over his belt and pull. The Outsider smiles with every kiss, runs his hand through Corvo’s hair and tugs at it when Corvo’s lips become lovingly bruising, leaving small marks where they touch and kiss.

But to the Outsider’s displeasure, someone hurries up to them. Corvo hears the sound of steps and climbing and turns his torso, though his hands are still busy with undressing his lover below. A man stops before them, his eyes transfixed on Corvo’s intensely and his cheeks flaring up with red.

“My Imperial Majesties, I believe all the Overseers and rebels have been rounded up and the High Overseer Plitz can be brought before you at any moment you order.”

Corvo considers, and, to the messenger’s horror, but to the Outsider’s delight, never stops with what his hands are doing. The belt has long been unclasped, the zipper of the leather pants undone, and the deity bites on his lips when Corvo’s fingers dive to touch his abdomen and lower. The messenger tenses up. Corvo leans down and leaves an elaborate wet trail with his tongue and withdraws again.

“Bring Plitz closer. I want him to watch.  _ I _ shall worship the god and  _ he _ will kneel. And you will hold him, make him bow and yet… watch.”

The messenger swallows, lips pursed, and gives a short bow. Corvo turns around and gives the Outsider a playful glance. The Outsider smiles, his breathing shaking with anticipated pleasure. He reaches out to catch a lock of Corvo’s hair and curl it around his finger.

“My dear Corvo, sometimes your decisions strike me with their boldness. Has our lust for each other truly surpassed the boundaries of what people can endure?”

Corvo grins at that question and leans down to kiss the sensitive skin where black hairs grow in a trail to his genitalia. The Outsider’s fingers curl over the stones that create his seat, his body trembles pleasantly at the careful tender kisses that Corvo caresses him with.

They can hear shuffling and stone tinkling to the side, stopping mere meters away, but neither looks. They know who it is and they know they are being watched closer. At the thought of it, it seems, Corvo’s kisses peck lower and lower and the Outsider has to hold onto the stone at the pleasure of it, his lips turning in a smile.

Corvo is, as always, relentless. Not for a moment his lips leave the god’s skin, not for another moment he stops his caress. Gentle or passionate, both make the Outsider excited with every following minute. All the more engrossing it is to know that eyes of the crowd are on him, that the ‘blasphemer’s’, the High Overseer’s, eyes are on him. Corvo pulls at his trousers more and lets his hard flesh out of its hold. His hands give it a single stroke that sends sparks through the Outsider’s body, tingling and teasing and stinging even. He arches a little and slides down in his seat closer to Corvo. The Emperor’s lips tease him as he kisses around his flesh, up over his abdomen.

“Corvo…” the Outsider stutters, smiling and sighing shakily.

It is achingly impossible for the Outsider to wait anymore. Corvo’s teasing mouth undoes him with every second, dancing around the Outsider’s cock even as he nearly begs Corvo to touch him. Strained, full of unfulfilled desire, he loses himself to what Corvo does grant him, another kiss over his abdomen, a playful hand on the inner side of his thigh. His fingers graze up to where his flesh is free, sliding inside to rub his balls. He hisses when Corvo touches him like so, and bucks up to welcome it. Corvo smiles, leans, and then the Outsider is no more.

His eyes stare into the distance transfixed when Corvo’s wet mouth touches his cock. Impulse after impulse, small and holding, it makes the Outsider shift in his place, fingers digging into the columns’ surface. He throws his head back for a moment and sucks in dusty air.

Corvo hums a little, drawing a moan from the Outsider’s mouth. The Emperor’s worship knows no mercy, a mouth so inquisitive and torturous. A tongue slides over a sensitive head, making the Outsider’s thighs move wider. He is all too aware of the stones that rip his jacket’s fabric, pushing in his back. But even that makes him want more.

“Making you come undone before me is the most beautiful gift you could have given me,” Corvo says, pressing kisses to the Outsider’s abdomen again while his hand slowly drags and pumps over his flesh. The Outsider bites on his lips, pleased and hot, looks down at Corvo with a lost gaze. His eyes are feverish, but they see the darkness of Corvo’s eyes, the redness of his thin lips. He touches his chin and makes him push up to kiss him. Corvo’s mouth melts in a kiss with him, yearning, passionate. 

Someone shouts beside the ruins, but the Outsider is too busy to pay their words any attention. He has never listened to a single prayer, never accepted a worship, but it is never like this with Corvo. His is the worship that must be taken in full and with undivided attention.

Corvo lowers down again, his dark eyes, resounding his name of Corvo the Black, stare and never leave the Outsider’s face. This time his tease is more, a whole mouth down the Outsider’s cock. The Outsider gasps out with every draw of a slick touch, of a careful tongue. His hand is in Corvo’s hair again, ruffling curls. His hips buck up and his mouth is slightly open, hot air brushing off his lips in every single gasp. 

He dares to look to where High Overseer Plitz and his watchman are standing and his lips twist into a terrible grin. As he is lovingly sucked off, he feels the world change around him, colours losing itself to sepia, and the rush of existence replacing stillness of the world. He knows that slowly, bit by bit, his eyes well up with blackness, because he has seen it before in the mirror. The white of the eye apple filling up with a sheet of blind obscurity, his irises turning silver, barely visible. It is known to inspire horror in those who witness it, and High Overseer Plitz is an example of it. Lowering his head, struggling against his captor, the old man mutters strictures under his breath. 

Corvo’s mouth starts moving faster at that and the Outsider lets his head fall back as pleasure becomes inevitable. Corvo moves away to instead stroke him off with a rough fast hand and only suck on the tip of his cock. The Outsider’s fingers tug tighter at Corvo’s hair, and he mutters his name in a desperate plea. He is so close, he could fall into the Void with the same result, and he does, and he spills, and he comes and gasps, and it’s a relief and pleasure in one wave. 

His come covers his stomach, and specks of it are on Corvo’s face. Corvo gives some lazy kisses to his lover’s flesh, delicate and thorough still, caresses spent balls and reaches out to cuddle his face with one large warm hand. The Outsider soothes in his gentleness, breathing fast and ragged. The Void pulses all around him, tempestuous and alive, nearly tamed by Corvo’s love and worship. 

Muttering to the side of them increases in volume, mixed with something akin to sobbing. Corvo rises, swiftly and menacingly as his Black Emperor self, and turns to the High Overseer who trembles, his face contorted in disgust. His mouth moves quickly as he prays.

“ _...Restrict the Wanton Flesh. Truly, there is no quicker means by which a life can be upheaved and sifted than by the depredations of uncontrolled desire… Restrict the Wanton Flesh. Restrict… _ ”

The Outsider turns his head to look at Corvo, who orders the watchman away. He hurries back into the crowd, joining people who are still an exhibition of the many reactions. The Outsider spares them a glance and finds a great many bowing.

The Overseer’s gaze is transfixed on the Outsider, even if Corvo stands so close.

“Devil, your eyes as black as the pits of the Void where you will drag us all. The unfortunate, the children…  _ Restrict an errant mind before it becomes fractious and divided… _ ” Plitz sobs, unable to look away. Corvo, his hands rough and dirty, grabs at Plitz’s throat, fingers choking into the sides of his neck.

“How dare you blaspheme in the presence of a god?” he hisses. The Overseer, who is thrown out of his terror by Corvo’s violence, fumbles in his hold and tries to move away.

“You are despicable! What are you exhibiting, have you no shame? Look at your face, covered in… You have pleased the devil, and now he shall devour the purity of us all.  _ Restrict the wanton flesh… _ ”

“Hold your tongue, man. Not a word of your Strictures,” Corvo says wearily, lowly. The Outsider can see him detach the sword from his side and unflip it into full length. A tool of execution, of justice. How many a time has Corvo employed it, how many lives it has taken. What is one more life on the path to prosperity and peace?

The High Overseer whimpers, but keeps quiet not, even as Corvo’s hand is still holding his throat. The man chokes and gasps but still tries to spit his Strictures. Corvo squeezes harder and finally Plitz’s voice fades. “There is no more Abbey. No more Overseers. Your Strictures are a blasphemy and you shall not speak them in the presence of your god. Everyone shall bow!”

He says it so loudly, that even the Outsider’s own godly skin shivers and covers with goosebumps. His chest is still heaving and his eyes are drooped, the world colourless, a whirlwind of futures and pasts and one incoherent present. He watches his Emperor bring Plitz closer, the blade of his faithful sword pressed to the throat. It swishes once, slicing his neck with the sword, making blood gush out in streams. The crowd gasps and cries out, overwhelmingly supportive of the Emperor’s decision. The Outsider wonders faintly if their terror of what they have seen, or the terror of the rebellion threat is what drives them to support. After all, have the Emperors not brought order and prosperity to the Isles?

And yet, the living rebels scream curses.

With his head wobbling, the Overseers falls on the ground, dripping dark red on the stones. Corvo folds the sword and without another look at the body returns to the Outsider, kneeling before him again and helping him dress.

“I belong to you,” he says all of a sudden, his eyes dark and lustful. 

“And I to you,” the Outsider says, bringing Corvo closer and wiping his own come off his face with gentle fingers. Their lips meet and it is at that moment that the ground under them trembles slightly, making small stones jump and shake in the air, sliding off with a soft whisper. Something loud echoes in the distance.

Murmur and then screams erupt from the crowd as they all turn their attention from the Emperors to the possible source of the noise. Corvo rises and the Outsider follows him, holding onto his hands for support. They stand side by side, the Outsider slightly above, and look into the distance where dust and smoke is in the air above the Tower. Corvo’s foot slides down and the Outsider catches him from falling, hands digging into his arm.

There is laughter in the air, and Corvo and the Outsider look down to where the rebels are staring back, their eyes gleaming and mouths running red.

“Your survival means nothing. We are stronger than ever and you shall fall. We will not support tyrants. You don’t have a home anymore,” one of them says, a side of her face mangled and bruised. Corvo slowly, holding the Outsider and pulling him with him, steps down to the rebels. He leans to look at them and meets the death glare, hopeless but determined.

There is another swish of a sword, and one by one the rebels die at the Emperor’s fatal hand. He is ruthless, anger held back only because it is so engulfing, it controls his movements. His hand drips terribly, mark filled with blood of bloodthirst, corrupting it, and specks of red flying in all directions, mixing with one that spurts from the rebels. Soon, there is nothing left but a heap of meat and bones and clothes, vague figures of what used to be human. Corvo wipes his sword on his trousers and turns back to the Outsider, who carefully comes closer, avoiding dangerous steps on the ruins. His hands come to rest on Corvo’s face, wiping blood off. Corvo, gentleness and anger in a strange mix, takes his hands and kisses his palms warmly and tenderly. When he speaks, his voice is a shiver.

“These madmen have put a change into motion, something they have not entirely realised yet. But we will explain it to them. It seems violence has become too trivial. Well, the abundance and complexity of it may yet uninspire those who seek our power and lead them away from any grandiose ideas of seizing control of something that does not belong to them. I promise,” Corvo gives the Outsider a small peck on the lips and turns to the crowd that listens tensely, “that you will remain safe and unharmed under my and my Emperor’s care as long as you are faithful. Those who seek support of the Overseers, who as much as say a single blasphemous word, will follow the fate of these unfortunate ones. Let it serve as an expressive example.”

Corvo’s voice sounds final, and it is highlighted by the complete silence that meets him. And then they all bow, low or just a little, but they do, their loyalty unwavering, be it out of fear or true devotion.

Smoke rises far behind them, ashes and dust of the destroyed Tower. The Outsider wonders if it’s a mild explosion or a completely destructive one that wiped their home from the face of the earth. Regardless, the rebellion, even if a failed one, is the dynamic force that spurred change.

The Outsider looks down at Corvo tenderly and leans to press a kiss to his temple, careful and gentle. He knows today has turned the tide of the Empire. The leash on the country will be tightened, and there will be a lot of streaming blood. It’s a change, a difference. Where it takes them is only a question of time.

First, there was a god and the Dark Emperor, ruling the country. Now, it is them, ruling the world, no matter how megalomaniac it sounds.

Only when the Outsider, hand in hand with Corvo, approach the Tower, does it occur to him that there is every possibility that with the destruction Emily’s statue may not have survived. His fingers grasp onto Corvo’s hand tightly, blood and stone dust between their palms. His heart is beating too lively for a god whose eyes are still boundless black and whose body has yet again ascended to godhood with the Void swirling and bending around, a power of insanity and serenity in even measures.

If his fears are true, then the dawn of change has already broken.

The Empress is dead. Long live the Empress.


End file.
